Disclaimer: if I did, I wouldn't be telling you I don't.
He had never heard silence quite this loud. It was not the absence of sound but a sound itself, whispering on his ears as he walked across the hallway. He could hear the wind singing lullabies outside, their soft melodies leading little Harry to sleep, but it didn't matter. Nor did matter the barely audible creaks of the floor under his steps. All James could focus on was the silence.
It covered crimes and spoke of endings, signalling midnight along with the ticks of the clock. Seconds flew by, unnoticed and noticing, and the white noise grew louder.
Should he think it came to an end? Perhaps, due to some miracle, that life of fears that only brought tears could finally be over. Could he afford to, just for a fleeting moment, hope? It seemed like an impossible thing to wish for, that to suddenly realise they were free and no longer bound to grieve. But the sparks lit up on his eyes anyway, ignoring what the most rational thing seemed to be. He hoped for the best, prepared to the worse, and expected nothing. Just like every other day.
James sat on a sofa by the hearth and watched the fire. He got lost in thought as the flickering flames danced and curled up in spirals, clothing the room in warm light. He had always been fond of winter nights, ever since his first day at Hogwarts. The ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he pictured himself and Lily at King's Cross yet again, waving goodbye at a tousled-haired boy on the scarlet train. James wondered — not for the first time — how many Quidditch awards Harry would gather over the years. Surely he couldn't win more than his father, could he?
It all began with a twig snapping. Wand in hand, his senses kicked in action, sharp and alert for any signs of danger.
A candle was extinguished by the wind, sneaking in through the slight opening in the window. James caught a glimpse of the starry sky, like an ocean lit up by slivers of broken glass.
Sounds of footsteps and heavy breathing, followed by a tense silence: His shield was broken.
Silently, almost reverently, in that distant corner of his mind, he thanked the world, for Lily and Harry were safe upstairs.
As another sound cut through the air, an unspoken question took over. What is happening?
Then — then she stepped into the room, carrying their child on her arms. With wide eyes, he tried to find his voice. That intricate sensation of knowing you can't protect those who you love,that he was powerless and helpless; it consumed him.
A destroyed door and a piercing scream. The hooded figure burst into the house. A thick dark cloak concealed an unsatisfied desire for death and revenge, a limitless need to warrant his power would last long.
Behind him the darkness grew stronger, but James had loved the stars for too long to be afraid of the night. He didn't have a wand. It was gone, blown off by the sudden explosion, leaving James unarmed. That didn't stop him. The need to protect the two treasures of his life was greater than that. With shortness of breath, he shouted "I love you" in the form of a warning.
She ran. James didn't see her going, but he knew it had been their ending. No farewell. No departure. No famous last words. If you don't hear from me soon, he thought, remember that you are in my thoughts.
It was a painful goodbye, for it was never said and it was never explained.
And then the cold hit him with a flash of green light; the dark days came to an end as fear and pride crept into his mind. He gave all of him to try and save them, and he died thinking he had.